


God Only Knows

by Reccea



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-14
Updated: 2010-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:31:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reccea/pseuds/Reccea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's still wet, his hair dripping onto Rodney's face and Rodney would complain but he's too busy licking the salt-sour water from John's skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	God Only Knows

**Author's Note:**

> Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the water...
> 
> Ladyflowdi made a post about silly Season 3 SGA spoilers. One of which was:
> 
>  _Canon: John's past is revealed. It takes some convincing, but by mid-season, he will come to terms with his beach bum heritage, as well as his baggies, raunchy sandals, and bushy-bushy (brunette) hairdo. Fandom: Explodes. The Beach Boys become John's anthem music. This leads to geek outs, threads on John Love, Car Love, California Love, and a dozen or so fics all about John and Rodney having hot sex on the beach/in the backseat of a car._
> 
> And I couldn't get that last image out of my head.

The back of the car smells bitter like the ocean but under that there's the sweet taste of wax. Rodney knows he smells like sunscreen- he's been applying it every hour on the hour. But the chemical scent is lost in the mix of surf and sun that permeates the whole car.

There's sand on the floor of the back compartment and it bites into the skin of Rodney's back as John pushes in.

John's still wet, his hair dripping onto Rodney's face and Rodney would complain but he's too busy licking the salt-sour water from John's skin. John has his wet suit peeled down past his ass and the material brushes the insides of Rodney's legs with every thrust.

Rodney made jokes when John rented the Woody. He was even more cutting and amused when he found the blue bar that had "sex wax" proudly emblazoned on the package. He pointed out that they've spent the last year in the middle of the ocean so shouldn't they possibly go to New York or somewhere else civilized and alien. Not to the west, to the same sight that's greeted them every morning.

And John had smiled, had opened the passenger door and used the prospect of hot dogs and Icees as a bribe. Rodney got into the car because John was wearing a wet suit and the car was really a work of art.

John kisses with abandon, clammy water-wrinkled fingertips mapping out Rodney's warm skin. Every place that's been freed from the wet suit is cool to the touch, and Rodney feels so hot against him, a furnace going full blast.

He wonders if his sweat tastes anything like the ocean does on John.

John has one hand braced against the floor, one arm locked and shuddering against the rock of his body. He doesn't take his mouth off Rodney's neck and face and shoulders. Never stops pressing-tasting the dry skin.

And under his breath he hums a Beach Boys song, but not the one Rodney's expecting. Soft, steady, and high in the back of his throat.

Rodney's never had a thing for surfers. Too much in the vein of stupid adrenaline junkies for his taste (what with the sharks.) But he's been traversing a different galaxy for the past year, taking action where before he'd been strictly theory. He's spent a year with John Sheppard, getting to know the difference between thrill seeking and freedom.

Stepping into the cold Pacific, watching as John raced out to meet the waves head on, he'd thought that John's mouth tasted like a foreign ocean--

\--Tastes like home.

Rodney opens to it, drinks it in, lets it wash over him.


End file.
